Your Worst Nightmare
by GermanBros24
Summary: Dark!Hetalia. Different tales of murder, death, and gore. Jack the Ripper, Dracula, Frankenstein... But they're just tales...right? What happens when they arent? Death. Blood. Gore.
1. Chapter 1

**England: Jack the Ripper**

**While Ripper is not a 'monster' of folklore, he is a true terror that haunted London and easily is described as a beast or monster.**

**I cannot stress enough the level or brutality and gore in these tales- you have been warned.**

The blond man walked through the dark London streets. His green eyes flashed about the dark, searching for crime as he was a cop. He was also in the slums, he was in Ripper town. It would be plain foolish to not be alert.

The cobblestones were wet from the rain that had fallen earlier, and his feet smacked the stones with a small _splash._

His breath was light as he walked his beat, his ears straining to hear any small sound. It wasn't uncommon for cops to be jumped in the slums after all.

He turned onto a dark street, narrowing his eyes to see better. By instinct he tensed, walking quicker. This part of his patrol always gave him the creeps. No street should get that dark.

_Step. Step. Step. Step._

He froze, thinking maybe he heard his own footsteps echo…

_Step. Step. Step. Step._

He tensed. Who was out in the streets at this time?

"W-who's there!" he yelled out

Silence answered him, as if the footsteps merely came from his head. Maybe he was just tired…paranoid.

_Step. Step. Step. Step._

He staring shaking. Whatever that was…it was real.

No breathing was heard. No movement was seen. Just the steady sound of footsteps on the cobblestones.

_Step. Step. Step. Step._

They were getting louder, closer. Yet he still saw nothing. He was frozen in place, limbs locked. His mind screamed run yet his legs didn't move. He didn't even reach for his gun.

A cold chilling laughter echoed in the silence. Arthur's eyes darted around the dark trying to see something, yet he only found shadows.

"Go away!" he yelled, though it was drowned by the laughter

_Step. Step. Step. Step._

_Step. Step. Step. Step._

The steps got closer and faster, he was shaking terribly now.

_Step. Step. Step._

He felt like fainting. Three steps? The rest had come in fours!

That's when he felt a panting in his ear and hot breath on his neck.

With a strangled scream he spun about ready to fight.

But, nothing was there. Could this truly just be his imagination?

His brain finally worked enough to make his legs move and he turned to run yet he collided with something.

A man.

Arthur gulped, trembling. The man laughed coldly, chillingly.

In a flash of movement Arthur saw a silver blur then a searing pain that made him scream. A knife had dug into his upper leg.

Another flash and the pain repeated on the other side.

He could still not see his attacker, his cries seemed to be heard by no one as if he and this man where the only two beings in existence.

Arthur screamed again as steel was driven into his stomach.

His blood was spurting everywhere, coating both him and the man.

"R-Ripper!" he screamed as yet again the blade torn his flesh.

The man laughed in response, stabbing faster and harder, driving the blade in fully and tearing it out. Hot blood soaked Arthur's stomach and legs, running down him to form a rapidly growing puddle on the ground.

Arthur had no chance to breath, no relief. The pain was rolling in like waves at high tide. The blade flashed, darting in and out of his body rapidly.

Wailing in pain and going hoarse he slumped over, his head hitting Ripper's shoulder and resting on it. He couldn't move, he was too weak.

Ripper laughed, his bloody hand ruffled Arthur blond hair, his over giving him a gentle hug

"There, there." He softly spoke

Arthur cringed at the sound. He whimpered in pain but Ripper just rubbed the dying man's back, hand on the back of his head, holding him almost protectively.

Arthur's eyes grew heavy; he felt warmth spreading through him.

At that moment hand against his head moved and a second later the worst pain he ever felt flooded through him.

He screamed so loudly he went mute, a vessel in his eye popped, tears of agony streamed down his face.

Ripper grinned, wiggling the blade which rested in Arthur's kidneys.

The man wailed silently, his face fixed in a grimace of true agony.

The man was seconds from death and Ripper knew it. Slowly and painfully he dragged the blade out and shoved the man to the ground.

By the time Arthur landed in the pool of his own blood, he was dead.

Ripper grinned sadistically and licked the blood off his blade, only to disappear into the shadows of the night where he would lurk and wait for his next victim.

Jack the Ripper was never found. Some say he is a timeless beast, a monster in a man's body, sent from Hell that never dies.

_The next time you hear a bump or step in the night_

_Please, feel free, to be overcome with fright_

_For every night, is Jack the Ripper's night_

**Thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is based off of the Grimm Brothers The Dog and the Sparrow. Some of the text are the very words (dialogue) but the tale itself is mainly very different. **

**This is filled with gore...**

**All the tales are going to be different, sometimes the monster kills the person, other times they are the legend. So it won't be a set repeated pattern. **

**With that, please enjoy. **

**Austria: The Dog and the Sparrow**

Outside Gilbert Bielschdmit lay bleeding, close to dying. He had been badly wounded in a sword fight and his opponent had ran. Gilbert had dragged himself for nearly a half mile to get to the lawn of his cousin, Roderich. A blood trail had followed him, he was covered in dirt and grass, his abdomen was torn to shreds, and from the ruins of his torn clothes and skin one could see his intestines

When he could move to more, his great black eagle flew to the house, sharp beak tapping against the glass. Roderich looked up from his work, scowling. A servant ran into the room "Mr. Eldstein, a dying man is at the door!"

"Who?" he asked, seemingly bored of the matter

"We are not sure." He answered

The eagle rapped on the window again, cawing.

Roderich glared at the servants and they rushed away. The bird cawed again, louder. Roderich ignored it.

"He shall die. I care naught." He spoke to himself, though he was curious to see who the man was, and rose, walking outside to the farthest edge of his property, almost a mile away from his home, as his estate was quite large.

When he reached the edge and saw the man was none other than his annoying cousin, he laughed coldly.

"It is about time someone taught you to be silent, and who better than the Reaper?" he drawled cruelly.

The eagle flew over, screeching at him "Help! Help! Or it be worse for you!"

Yet Roderich looked at the bird "It shall naught be worse for me." He growled, and Gilbert did die at the neglect of his family.

The eagle cawed in anger "Cruel man! Thou hast kilt my friend! Mind what I say, this deed shall cost thee all thine worth."

Roderich scoffed, amused "What can thou do to me? Do your worst and welcome." He spoke, turning to go back inside.

Three servants where working on the grounds and the newly planted flowers sat in pots along the walk to the main doors.

The eagle started to fulfill his promise and dove at the pots, knocking them over, one spilling its black earth onto Roderich's shoes.

"What an unlucky wretch I am!" he cried out, kicking his feet free of the dirt.

"Not wretch enough yet!" cried the eagle, flying about the heads of his three workers and even landing and resting on the one's head.

In great rage he took a hatchet from a nearby tree stump and swung it at the bird. He had never worked manual labor, his aim was off, and he struck the worker instead, who fell to the ground dead, his skull cleaved open, blood pouring out from the shattered white bones, the man's brains oozing out to the grass, a look of horror painted on his rapidly paling face.

"What an unlucky wretch that I am!" he yelled again

The eagle replied back again "Not wretch enough yet!"

He perched upon the head of the second worker, and blind in rage Roderich swung and missed yet again, striking him in the front of the head, killing them. With a loud scream the man fell dead, blood spurting from his skull. Roderich torn the blade out and the man fell on his back, his deep red blood draining out like a river drains into a sea.

"What an unlucky wretch that I am!" he bellowed

"Not wretch enough yet!" the eagle cried flying onto the third worker head who was stock still in fear.

Roderich swung in is rage, missing the black beast again, his blade burring itself in the very top of his workers skull with a sickening crack. He wrenched it out, blood and brains flying off the sharp silver blade.

"What an unlucky wretch that I am!" he screamed, covered in blood and burning in rage

"Not wretch enough yet! Now I will plague and punish thee in thy home!" the eagle cried, flying off.

Roderich stormed across his grounds and into his home, screaming out to his wife "Alas! What ill luck has befallen me! My pots are spilt and three my workers dead!"

Eliza his wife looked up "Alas husband! A wicked bird has come into the house and brought with all the birds in the world! I am sure they have fallen upon our corn in the loft and are eating it up at such a rate!"

He glared and snarled, rushing to check upon his stores of corn that was tilled from his land. He found his wife had spoken true, as many a bird sat eating up the corn, the black eagle in their midst.

"What an unlucky wretch that I am!"

The eagle glared with beady red eyes and cawed "Not unlucky enough yet! Your cruelty will cost thee thine life!" and with that it flew away.

Roderich screamed in anger, stalking off and going to his kitchen where he sat with his head in his hands, still not sorry for what he had done.

"Thy cruelty shall cost thee thine life!" the bird cawed from the outside window.

He picked his head up and chucked the axe at the window, which did nothing more than shatter the glass and allow the bird to fly in.

"Thy cruelty shall cost thee thine life!" it taunted once more

Madness bubbling over he seized the hatchet once more and chased the blasted eagle about the house, he and his wife.

They shattered windows, broke chairs and tables, made holes in the wall, murdered anyone who got in their way, allowing dust from the walls and blood of their servants to paint the floor.

Screams and wails of dying echoed through their once fine home.

Roderich and Eliza were deaf to it, destroying their entire home yet finally catching the blasted bird.

"Shall I kill it at once?" Eliza asked

"No!" he cried "That is letting it off to easy, it shall die a much more cruel death: I shall eat it!"

At this the eagle fluttered its wings and cawed "It shall cost thee thine life!"

Unable to hear the beast any longer he held the creature in his hands and left the hatchet to his wife.

"Wife! Strike at the bird and kill it in my hand!"

No better aim than her husband with the axe, she swung and missed, burying the sharp blade in the front of his head.

He slumped over, the bird freeing itself from his hands.

Eliza screamed as blood streamed from his head, running from the crack, into his eyes and down his nose, over his lips and down is chin, dropping in puddle on his shirt and the floor. He finally slumped more, falling over on his face, burying the blade deeper into his brain, which now also ran runny down the sides on the bloody blade to the floor.

The eagle cawed in triumph and flew away.

_Always play fair and always be kind_

_For you never know what you will find_

_Deep in the dark of another's cracked mind_

**Thoughts?**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Gore... dark and not pretty **_

**Spain: Caballoucos del diablo**

A tired and worn out Antonio was sitting in a chair, staring at the doctor, nervously awaiting the news.

Lovino, his little Lovi, had fallen badly ill, and no matter what he tried he could not help the boy. And from the look on the doctor's face, neither could he.

"I am afraid to say but…I know not the origin of the sickness. I do not know what it is doing to him. He complains of chest pain on moment, then head, then stomach, and even in his arms and legs. It seems to be his entire body. He's been sick a long while yes?"

Antonio nodded, not able to speak. He tried to look strong but if he spoke his voice would betray him. His heart was shattering as it beat. The little boy was just too young to die!

"Well, I cannot help you. From the looks of it, he will be dead by dawn…unless there is a stroke of luck." The doctor rose as he spoke and went to the door.

"You're leaving!?" Antonio yelled

The man nodded "It is Saint John's Eve, I am celebrating." And with that, he was gone.

Saint John's Eve…he had forgotten all about it. He had been too worried over Lovi.

Suddenly he jumped it. It was _Saint John's Eve! _That meant if the seven horses and their demons didn't destroy all the four leaf clovers, he could find one in the early morning, rush home, and save Lovino!

He swore, and started pacing. The horses always came, and they always did a fine job of destroying all the luck.

But he was determined. This year would be different. It had to be different.

He seized a small gas lamp from the wall along with his faithful halberd. He'd fight the demons and the horses if he had to.

Running from the house he made his way to the large field outside of the town. There were clovers at every turn. Not lucky tonight, the legend says, but come the morning if they were, they would be.

The legend had to be true.

It was very dark already, around eleven. The sky was black, no stars, no moon. Nothingness. Bleak and hopeless black.

Suddenly, his light went out and the blackness of the night enveloped him.

Smoke crept over the field, stinging his eyes and throat, he coughed and held his axe tightly.

In a sudden blaze he saw a great beast, a winged green horse, flaming and smoking, he and its rider screaming to the sky.

He froze in place, eyes wide. The green horse flew across the field, followed closely by a blue horse. The field began to smolder and it caused him to snap to reality.

He changed towards the horses and their demon riders, swinging his axe at them, watching in horror as nothing happened.

A back flaming horse came soon, followed with a white. The horses reared in snorted, flames billowing about. The rider's looked the same expect for the colors of their flames. Hey had no faces, as the flames danced and gave no features. They were a flame in the shape of a human like god, but he could see they all held flaming weapons.

The smell of smoke was suffocating him, he tried to see through the hazy smoke, tried to see how he could destroy one of the horses.

Soon a yellow and orange horse joined, he was surrounded by the beasts. The riders seemed to jeer at him, the horses blazing like hellfire.

He knew the legend well. All that was missing was the red horse, the lead demon.

And he was not disappointed, for slowly the red flames advanced. Biding its time, like a great and noble king.

He grew angry. The evil monster was no king! They were the Devil's little horses! He charged it, swinging his blade into the blue horse.

To his dismay, the axe melted in his hands, and the rider laughed, a booming a dark humorless laugh.

He coughed again but harder this time. He was being suffocated more and more by the smoke. The heat as intense, everything was blurry with the heat waves and smoke.

This was hell. He prayed he didn't end up staying in hell for eternity, not if it felt like this.

The red demon gave some order he did not see and before he knew it, an excruciating burning pain was in his side. The blue rider's spear was against his tanned skin, burning it.

A blade of green fell upon his back and he let out an ear splitting cry.

The black and white horse flew to the far end of the field and began to burn.

Orange and yellow started to do the same and the red watched Antonio scream and writhe in pain. Tears streamed from his eyes.

When the pain dulled from the nerves being dead the horsemen moved their flames, bringing fresh waves of agony to him.

The field was now aflame, the fires racing from two ends to meet in the middle.

He had failed. Now Lovi would die. That was all he could think of, he thought not of his own death, he felt that coming with the deep pain.

The suddenly it stopped, and the two horses and demons left. He was a broken and burnt man on the ground at the feet of the red rider.

Was he spared? No, these burns would kill him.

The horse stepped forward, his flaming hoof on Antonio's hand.

Then another hoof on his shoulder. On his arm, and then his leg.

He screamed as the burning started, but the weight collapsed his already smoke filled lungs. He gasped for air but it was pointless.

Then the hoof was lifted and smashed down onto him. He screamed loudly, but no one heard. He was just losing more air.

The other feet fell on him, causing his skin the blister red and burn, immense pain coursing through his dying body.

More footfalls. He was being trampled to death.

He didn't know how long the hooves rose and fell onto him, but the last thing he saw before he shut his eyes forever was a small four leaf clover right in front of him.

And it was burning.

_Watch for the horsemen who ride but once,_

_For to mess with them you sure be a dead dunce_

**Thoughts?**

**Review for different countries/monsters**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is Frankenstein, and it may or may not be the version you know! I am not an expert on these tales, I research some. I know ****_this_****version of Frankenstein! I am not reading the 24 chapter book to use that version (if they are different) I believe it's a Germanic version but I cannot be sure. That said, enjoy.**

**Frankenstein: Germany/Prussia/Germania**

Two brothers, a doctor and a soldier, stood waiting in the foyer of their father's mansion.

The older brother was the soldier, he stood tall and proud, sharp jaw, straight back. He had blazing red eyes and pale skin that worked well with his white army officer's uniform. A newly earned Prussian Cross[1]was around his neck. He was Captain Gilbert B. Frankenstein, age 24.

The younger brother was the doctor. He had neatly combed blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, and resembled his father much more than his brother. Yet, he felt his brother was the favored son. Gilbert was the war hero, he was just the man without the guts to kill, a simple doctor. He wore a black and slightly muddy trench coat over his doctor's attire. He was Doctor Ludwig B. Frankenstein, or more commonly called, Doktor Frankenstein. He was 21.

They stood in silence, waiting for their father. Their mother had recently died, and their father, Aldric, had been taking care of her affairs, and tonight he was to give them both their inheritance.

Soon a man with blue eyes and long blonde hair swept into the room, he wore black trousers with a white shirt tucked in to them, a black frock coat his head adorned with a noblemen's hat. He warmly greeted Gilbert, ever so prideful to have his son be such a noble and courageous soldier.

He looked to his younger son, and greeted him with a slight nod.

"Well my sons, I'm glad you could make it! The weather out there is quite frightful!"

Gilbert nodded "It is indeed father, but it is worth any trouble to get here."

Ludwig was silent. The weather was perfect for him, he could be experimenting with his new idea!

Aldric lead the two men into his office and shut the door behind them.

"Gil, my son, you have been left the pocket watch." He turned to Ludwig "You have been given an acre of land on the edge of the property and gold."

Gilbert had of course gotten the better end of the deal. The pocket watch was a family keepsake. Ludwig burned in rage, he didn't think Gil had simply gotten it because he was older either. Aldric favored him.

Ludwig rose "Well, the weather is quite bad. I best take my leave." And he walked out into the storm.

The weather was still perfect, the air cracking with lightening. He hurried into his carriage and the driver started off for the grave yard.

Once the arrived at the gates, he grabbed a shovel and jumped out, spraying mud everywhere. He walked past the gates and the sign reading '**Grave robbers will be shot.'**

A new grave had been dug earlier and that was the one he went to, he started digging quickly, rain soaking him.

The thunder boomed and lightening cracked, the wind roared and the rain pounded. He didn't hear any footsteps.

"Brother!" Gilbert snapped, coming up behind him

Ludwig jumped not thinking he'd been followed

"What are you doing?!" Gilbert yelled, confusion, rage, and fear a mix on his face

Ludwig didn't have time to answer before a gun went off.

Gilbert hit the ground and Ludwig yelled "Run!"

Gil struggled to his feet and they both ran until they got to the carriage, jumping in and slamming the door, they took off.

"Why did you follow me brother!" Ludwig yelled

But he wasn't answered. Gil was slumped in the seat, his white uniform stained with blood and mud. He was dead.

Ludwig bellowed in rage, he screamed and even cried a bit. He hated his father, but he loved his brother.

The driver stopped outside Ludwig estate. His father hadn't given him it he had earned it through practicing medicine. He leapt from the carriage, grabbing his brother's body and running inside.

The weather was still right. He could still save his brother.

He knew he had to tell his father Gil was dead, and he sent a messenger.

Inside he and his assistant went rapidly to work, no questions asked. Gil was cut open on the metal table, the bullet dug out, the organs that had been wounded, cut out, and in haste thrown on the ground.

His liver was ruined. Toss it out.

His kidney in shock. Tear them out.

His spleen ruptured. Scrap it out.

The scalpel cut out more and more ruined organs, the albino's body becoming almost a hollow shell.

His assistant pattered across the bloody and grimy floor to the racks on the shelf with organs sitting and floating in an amber liquid.

Brains, hearts, livers, lungs, kidneys, spleens, stomachs… anything. Everything.

It took the small man four trips, arms loaded with the containers, to get everything over. Ludwig went quickly about putting everything back inside his brother. Stitching him together be moved back.

"Open the ceiling." He growled

The man hurriedly did so, Ludwig strapping Gilbert to the table.

The table was raised, the ceiling open, lightening flashed and suddenly it hit the metal he had outside, the currents racing down his machine and striking his brothers body.

The man twitched and writhed and suddenly he screamed. The power was switched off and table lowered. Ludwig grinned "He lives."

Downstairs his father sat fuming. When Ludwig walked into the room, Aldric jumped up.

"WHERE IS MY SON!"

Ludwig glared "Right here." He said pointing to himself

Aldric snarled "I see no son of mine."

He was hurt but he said nothing.

"So you killed your brother have you?!" he yelled, walking closer and shoving Ludwig

He shook his head "He lives!"

He waved into a stair well and a shuffling of feet came. Some low grunts and moans companied it.

Gilbert slipped from the shadows into the light. His shoulders were crooked, his head tilted to the side, his eyes dull in color, he shuffled, unable to truly walk. He had stitches on his neck, his hair standing up awkwardly.

Aldric backed up "That monster is not my son!" he snarled at Ludwig and lunged at him, shoving him against the wall, hands around his neck.

Ludwig struggled, kicking and punching but it didn't seem to bother his father who was mad in grief and rage.

Suddenly his father was jerked away and thrown across the room but Gilbert.

The servants saw and screamed "IT'S THE FRANKENSTEIN MONSTER!"

Gilbert shuffled to his father on the floor, falling on him and proceeding to choke him. Aldric struggled but he was no match.

Ludwig watched in horror then ran over and tried to get Gil off their father, but it was too late, Aldric was dead.

He smashed his fist into the side of Gilbert's head. "You monster!" he howled

Gilbert slowly turned his head to look at Ludwig, then he stood, shuffling closer. Ludwig quickly back up, almost fainting as his back hit a wall.

His brother's hands encircled his throat and started to squeeze with the force no man possessed. He kicked and punched but it was like striking a wall.

His vision blurred and his lungs screamed for air, he clawed at Gilbert's face and skin shredded off, but it seemed he felt no pain for he choked him still and Ludwig passed out.

The pressure didn't go away until Ludwig too was dead.

The monster smiled, his clumsy hand brushing Ludwig's messed up hair from his eyes

"Brother." He spoke in a slow, child-like tone.

The monster smiled, and hugged with crushing force

"I love you brother."

_The beasts at we make,_

_Are the horrors we create_

* * *

[1] The story is in the 1800's I think…so any army medal had to be Prussian.

Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

**France: Cave of Goeblin (Goblin Cave)**

It was frigidly cold and hunger gnawed at Francis' stomach. Cold bit through his thread bare clothes as he trudged across the ground into town. Today he hoped to get just a bit of bread to feed his starving body.

As he walked down the forested path he saw a small cave. Snow started to fall rapidly and he sought warmth and protection from the wind in the cave.

Walking into the cave he nearly fainted. All around there were towers of gold, heaps of jewels, and mountains of coins. This had to rival King Louis the XVI's riches!

He stood awestruck. He had to have discovered Eldorado! So much wealth…for a poor and starving peasant of the Third Estate, this was unfathomable. He stuck a shaking hand out to touch a heap of gold, maybe his hunger had driven him insane and this was a cruel dream.

He almost shrieked when his fingers touched the cold metal. It was real!

He glanced around to see if anyone else was in the cave. Finding no one he shot a furtive lance at the exit of the cave. He wasn't a thief…but was it thieving if he just took enough to feed himself?

He grabbed a fistful of coins, more than he had ever held before, and ran out into the cold. He didn't care it was cold, he would eat today!

Running up to the bakery in town he stood and waited with a crowd of other people. Everyone was thin and gaunt; there were sullen and hopeless looks on everyone, even the children.

The baker opened the door and everyone stormed in, shoving and pushing to get in. Francis got in and the baker put up the price for the bread for the day. He was in the back and couldn't see, he had let the women and children in first.

But he could tell by the shrieks and cries of anger, the price must have been outrageous. The money burned in his pocket and with a smile he cried above the din "I'll buy for everyone!'

The baker scoffed "Has his Highness come here himself?"

The crowed went silent and stepped back from him, and he strolled to the counter, putting his money on the table, grabbing a steaming loaf of bread and walking right out the door.

Such a satisfaction he got with having so much money at his disposal… food in his stomach used to bring such happiness, but not now, that was an old sensation.

No, now…he wanted to spend more. He had just bought food for the entire town! He shouldn't look like this! His boots had holes, his breeches and shirt were badly torn and frayed! His coat was muddy and dull, it had holes and missing buttons.

He made his way back to the cave, again finding no one there.

"What a fool leaves such wealth unguarded?" he pondered, taking more money, taking a few jewels and a lump of gold.

Now this of course was not stealing. No, it was just _there. _Finders' keepers.

He walked back to town and into the tailors shop, which has empty and saw very little business these days. The man who owned it looked up and Francis grinned

"Your finest clothes!" he yelled, setting a fistful of coins on the table.

The tailor couldn't believe his eyes. Leaping up at once he scurried for his tools and cloths.

It took several hours, but soon Francis stood in clothes fine enough for a nobleman. Smooth brown breeches, a silky white shirt, a red satin vest and a blue overcoat. He was adorned with a red cape with a gold cord. Then to top it off, a fine hat, the typical three point black leather frock hat.

He now looked as wealthy as he was, for he did claim everything in the cave.

Only thing wrong was his boots, so he made for the cobblers. Inside he demanded a fine pair of boots, and the cobber fit him.

"Your old boots are larger than these new ones, are you sure they fit?" he asked

This was insanity, how did this man have a job? He must be an idiot, of course the boots had to be the same size!

"Yes I'm sure!" he snapped and walked out.

As he walked he realized his clothes and boots became dirty, he could have no such thing, and so he walked up to a man with a fine hose, presumably a nobleman. He himself looked mostly like a noble, especially with his clothes not hiding his thin frame. His face was quite good looking, so he didn't look like a peasant very much at all.

"Monsieur? I cannot help but notice how lovely your horse in there, name your price and I shall match it!" he said with a charming smile, holding out a handful of jewels.

The man's eyes almost popped from his skull "Good Lord!" he cried "Take it, take the horse!" he threw the reins to Francis, greedily snatching up the jewels.

Francis mounted the beast and rode down the road. He felt like a king, never had he been so…powerful. People scurried from out of his way, he sat in clothes so fine, he rode a horse so grand!

The sleeves of his shirt seemed a little longer than before, but he paid no notice, getting himself some lunch instead.

Now he deemed his pockets to light, and he rode his horse back to the cave, taking more of the self-entitled riches. He gazed around, drinking in the shimmering piles of wealth. He was no longer hungry for bread, but for wealth.

A few days did pass, and he accumulated more possessions, another horse, more clothes, he ate finer breads and pastries. He did not help his fellows any longer, for if he helped them, would he not be soon poor?

And he grew shorter and shorter, but he seemed to not notice. He would gaze and wallow in the piles of his riches, all alone in the cave.

He would think of nothing else but money and power, he did not need anything else.

One day, he rode into town once more, to fetch himself a pig, for he would truly eat like a king tonight. But as he rode in, a woman shrieked in horror, kids went running from him, gorwn men froze in their place.

"Goblin!" one man shouted

Francis looked confused, but was angry with their stupidly. But he supposed that was all the peasants could do.

Suddenly a gun was fired at him, and he, though shocked, turned his horse and galloped off.

He of course went to his cave, sliding off his horse, and he did admit the distance from the horse to the ground seemed high. His foot splashed in a puddle and he looked down.

His eyes widened and he screamed. Instead of a well-dressed and handsome man, he was a short, ugly, twisted beast, in a noble' s clothes!

But alas, the reflection was him! For he had found the goblins cave, and he fell under the goblins curse. He had become greedy and selfish, stealing riches that were not his and now, he had become a goblin.

He could think of no way to deal with such a thing, and he darted into his cave, to cry and weep among the objects that had brought him such joy.

_The greatest wealth, obtained by greatest stealth_

_Is a curse, is a curse! Sing it in such a verse_

_For the Goblin's cave, is a man's grave_

_Thoughts?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Romania: Dracula**

**Let's make this clear now. Twilight has some mutated mess of some creation. Bram Stoker has real vampires. (He wrote Dracula)**

**Now, vampires DIE in the sunlight. They do NOT cross running water (only the absolute strongest can, situations vary). You kill them with a stake in the heart, light, and/or destroying their coffins. Yes garlic 'repels' them. They have NO reflection. They do NOT love! THEY DRINK HUMAN BLOOD, in particular, virgin blood. Vampires have supernatural abilities: abnormal strength, heightened senses, and can hypnotize their victims. Vampires can turn into bats AND wolves.**

**Yeah…fuck you Twilight.**

The sun was fading fast as the gypsy train moved on through the woods. Eliza walked behind the group, distracted. The woods were lovely in the late fall. Leaves decorated the ground and made a nice crunch under foot. The air was fresh and crisp, the small creeks and rivers ran strong, almost as if they tried to run away from the coming winter.

The wildlife scattered when the gypsy train came through, deer bounded off, squirrels skittered away, owls looked down condescendingly from their perches.

Eliza halted for a moment to drink in the scene. She had an avid love of nature, and she could not think of a scene more perfect.

Suddenly a hawk cawed and dove for a mouse on the forest floor, gripped it in its strong talons and flew off. This caught Eliza's attention and she realized she had lost the group.

Fear didn't grip her for she knew where they had planned to set up camp for the night. It couldn't be that far off anyway. The dark of the night was closing in and her feet started to move a little faster down the road. It was getting steadily colder now, and it was becoming hard to see. She didn't see a dim glow from the caravan anywhere.

She bit her lip and stopped, taking a deep breath. Just then she heard from the bushes a low panting, like that of a dog. But when she turned around, nothing was there.

Frowning she started to walk again, slowly, trying to see any markings from the wagons on the ground.

Twigs snapped and the panting started again. The forest had otherwise gone dead silent. In the dark she saw two fierce glowing red eyes, belonging to a wolf.

She froze and stared at the animal in fear. As soon as the animal appeared, it vanished.

Standing in fear a moment more, she broke out into a run, coming to a fork in the road. Her mind raced, she didn't know what way to go. There were no wheel treads in the dirt.

Then a deep voice spoke behind her "You are lost, little traveler?"

She spun around to face a pale man, he looked to be perhaps in his twenties. He held a torch which illuminated his face, and cast shadows on his sharp red[1] eyes, which looked both frightening and oddly ageless and deep. He had raven black hair, neatly kept.

Eliza looked over his clothing. He was rather finely dressed for traveling in the woods a night, but most of his clothes were black. He smiled kindly, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Excuse my manners, I am Count Vladimir[2] Popescu." He spoke, extending his hand.

Eliza couldn't look away from his eyes; they were so captivating, and interesting. She felt like she could get lost in their endless pits.

Stammering she managed to give the man her name. He smiled once more "Do you seek shelter?"

She tore her gaze away from his eyes and looked at the ground. "N-no…I just lost my g-group...I'll be ok…"

"It is rude to not look at whom you are speaking to."

Without any protest, she looked up to meet his eyes. She was different than most girls. She spoke out of turn. She ran around barefoot, thieved, hung out in the woods, hunted, all sorts of things the average girl would not. But this time, with this stranger, she did not dare refuse. She did not dare argue. She listened.

"No one had passed by here." He spoke

She frowned and went to argue. She_knew_ someone passed by!

He cut her off. "No one, has passed through here."

Well maybe she had taken a wrong turn then, they had gone somewhere else.

"You are not traveling with anyone." Vladimir spoke again, with his soft velvety voice

But, what did he mean? Of course she was traveling with someone, why would she be alone?

Still looking into her eyes, he went on "You are a fugitive. You ran away. You seek shelter."

Her mind was becoming very foggy. She was a fugitive? Ran from where?

As if he could read her thoughts, he weaved her backstory. "You are a thief. You have no family. You were arrested, but fled from the nearby town. You need shelter for the night."

"I need…shelter…for…night…?" her mouth moved without her brain's compliance.

He smiled, and took her hand.

Her mind screamed no, but her hand held onto his, and followed the mysterious man back to his manor.

He was a stranger. She didn't ever trust strangers. But was she not a fugitive? She trusted him, he would hide her from the law.

She gazed around the dark grounds of the even darker and foreboding castle that had seemly come out of nowhere.

"This castle is nice, yes?" he asked, taking her inside

Again her mouth moved with words put into it that were not hers "This…castle is nice…"

He smirked, standing now in a cold castle corridor, the main doors shut. It was cold, and pitch black as he had no torch brackets on the wall. His light from earlier had vanished, but just like the wolf from earlier, his red eyes burned in the blackness, like coals.

Or even like the pits of hell.

She shivered but could not look away from his eyes.

In a flash of movement she hit the wall, hard. She shrieked in both pain and surprise, her green eyes going wide.

Vladimir's red eyes had vanished from the blackness, but she felt iron like hands around her wrists, and a stone cold body shoving her and holding her to the wall.

Whatever it was had total control over her. Body, and mind.

Pain erupted in her neck as two cold sharp objects punctured the skin. She felt blood running from the wounds, and a scream stuck in her throat.

A soft, calming, velvety voice in her head spoke: Relax. All is fine. You are safe.

She didn't want to relax, no she wanted to fight. But she didn't, she relaxed, sighing softly, even as pain wracked through her.

She was getting weaker, but it didn't feel as if she was dying. It felt as if she was simply floating away to sleep, safe in Count Vladimir's castle.

In a moment her dead body hit the floor, and Vladimir wiped blood off his mouth, fangs retracting to a smaller size.

He smirked. She was not the first, and she was not the last. Many more young virgin girls would die this way. He'd take control of their mind. Lure them in. Overpower them, and kill them.

He was unstoppable in his game. He was always the winner. He would always be the winner.

_Fall at his feet, simply give in_

_He'll puts your organs in the garbage bin_

_He's in your head, commit no sin_

_There's nothing you can do…just give in_

* * *

[1] Bram Stoker's Dracula had red eyes

[2] Romania's human name I think, it was the one I saw the most

**Thoughts? **

**That concludes this!**


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